Tales from the Heart
by RevelationToBehold68
Summary: A series of Oneshots that are kind of linked of the characters general idea of love and marriage and how they achieved these things. Victor, Victoria and Emily. Rated K  so far.
1. The Idea of Love

Victor

It was safe to say that throughout his life, Victor hadn't given much thought to marriage. To him the topic was rather grim—he'd seen his parent's marriage was like—the constant argumentative tragic comedy featuring an overbearing wife a dawdling, chuckling father. If marriage was like that then he really wanted little part in it. Plus the idea of achieving something as distant and complicated as marriage was a downright terrifying concept to Victor. When Victor talked to anyone he was always flushed and stuttering and if he wasn't tripping over his tongue he was tripping over his feet. He'd always been a klutz and when talking to member of the opposite sex (the few times in his twenty years that he actually had) blood was always guaranteed to be shed; the way he nearly convulsed with nerves when (trying) to speak to one.

So Victor had always tried to admire girl's from a safe distance, but of course even he could find a way to hurt himself even then—the most memorable incident being in his fathers fish market. It was eight years ago, he'd been thirteen and some unwise imbecile had given the young lad a cleaver to monotonously hack the heads off of dead fish slapped onto a cutting board. He'd been doing quite well until a gaggle of giggling schoolgirls sauntered by, hair gleaming in the pale winter sun, tiny waists twisting delicately as they pranced past, skirts swishing playfully on the cobblestones leaving a tiny entryway to the tantalizing mysteries that lay beneath. Victor had been so memorized by the sight that he nearly let the cleaver pass cleanly through his finger. Had Mayhew not been lingering nearby to quickly dodge in and snatch the knife out of the boy's grasp, Victor would be walking around without a thumb on his right hand.

Looking back at these incidents, Victor could safely conclude that marriage was simply something he couldn't' participate in. Even if he wasn't a danger to anyone what woman in her right mind would want to stand at the Alter with him: the bumbling son of a fish merchant?

Victor received the answer to that question when his parents announced his marriage was to be arranged. He should have expected it to be like that—a woman would have to be forced to marry him. Not only was the idea terrifying, it was downright humiliating. Over the course of the next month since he'd received the news, Victors mind twisted into horrible scenarios of his wife hating him or his wife being some hideous creature…or being exactly like his mother. Now _that_ was a thought that could earn a man a lifetime in the madhouse.

But the thought that ailed Victor the most (and that was saying quite a bit considering the aforementioned problem) was the fact that he would never learn what love was like. But then again, what even was love? Was it the ability to talk to someone without tripping over one's words—something Victor was only able to do to Mayhew and, once a upon a time, his dog, Scraps. Was love based of beauty or dowry? Gangly and awkward, Victor didn't think love could land on a soul a misfortunate as his. He did have money, however...at least his parents did. What was love anyway? Was it learned or was it internal? With his marriage was arranged he felt that he was somehow cheated of learning the answer. He'd never get the chance to find out.

All of this, of course was before he met her. Before he met Victoria.

The day of their rehearsal he'd met her for the first time and everything about her swirled his emotions and sent them in a tailspin of chaos.

The paleness of her skin, her soft smile, the heart shape of her face, the tenderness in her voice as she spoke about her dreams, her childhood.

It was then that Victor, for once in his life, felt rewarded, that the woman standing in front of him was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

Victor didn't think about marriage often and he didn't know what love was supposed to be.

He felt it.


	2. A Wistful Dream

Victoria

As a child, Victoria had given a lot of thought on the idea of marriage. She'd always been a terribly romantic child, highly imaginative, borderline passionate—all acts of sin in her mothers eyes and as a result Maudeline Everglot had tried to stamp out such wistful ideas of fluff out of her daughters head. And while it appeared to work, underneath Victoria's suppressed coat of gray was the same dreamy child that had always been there.

What her mother didn't know was that in her childhood Victoria would steal away up to the attic of the families mansion and she would hold a wedding. All her dolls would be in attendance, their painted eyes watching the young girl, wrapped up in a pair of old lace drapes, walk down the "aisle" and be married at the alter to her one true love. Some days it would be the dashing Mr. Darcy, others when she was more wicked and daring it would be Mr. Rochester. The seven-year old Victoria would push past her imaginary husbands past faults and go to him just as Jane had come the end of the novel.

As she got older, Victoria left her fantasyland in the attic and began to dream of a wedding where she would walk down the aisle of a church, dressed in white silk, instead of matted lace where guests made of flesh and bone not paint and porcelain would watch her.

As she lay in bed at night, staring at the canopy above her she could picture it so clearly in her mind. She'd be a dream in flowing white silk, her veil fluttering behind her in a gauzy waterfall. She'd let her hair tumble around her shoulders in loose curls, free from the restricting bun that her mother forced her to keep tightly coiled on her head.

She would walk slowly, but proudly down the aisle not caring about all the eyes that lay upon her, only waiting for what came at the end. Unfortunately for Victoria, this was where the fantasy generally ended. Her clear vision would melt away as soon as her groom turned to face her simply because she didn't know who her groom was to be, and sadly for her she'd never be given the chance.

Lady Everglot's painstaking attempts to whisk her daughter out of her foolish fantasies finally succeeded when she announced that her daughter was to have an arranged marriage. The Everglot's were facing bankruptcy for on reason of another (Victoria was so devastated that she hadn't paid attention the finer points of the topic) and to regain their wealth, the Everglots had arranged for their daughter to marry Victor Van Dort, the son of a wealthy fish merchant. Her mother had sniffed in disdain that is it was shameful that Victoria would have to be pawned off to the _Nouveau riche___but it was less traumatizing that the alternative: the poorhouse.

Her mother had been about to leave the room when Victoria finally regained her voice and asked timidly if she had a picture of her recent fiancé—a painting, a sketch, a newspaper clipping…anything. Her mother let out a curt "no" before leaving the room. The reply was cold but it was better than what might have erupted had her mother known the real reason for asking.

She wanted a face for her fantasy.

Victoria thought she might get to choose her groom but now, she'd been cheated of that. Her mother hadn't gotten to choose her husband and now they lived a bitter life both having an equal relationship of smoldering hate burning inside them whenever they dealt with each other. Victoria had hoped, prayed that she wouldn't be resigned to such a life but now she knew fate had befallen her.

She wondered if she could return to her childhood fantasies when she was "marrying" Mr. Rochester. She wondered if she would be able to look past her husbands faults just as she used to with her imaginary betrothed. It seemed now she would have to.

Little did Victoria expect her soon-to-be husband's faults so tender and endearing.

Clumsy, awkward and painfully shy, Victor Van Dort didn't possess any type of villainy whatsoever. As soon as she met him she was enchanted not only by the haunting melody he played on the families piano but also by he himself.

She loved the way he stammered when he spoke and how he fiddled with his tie to the point of strangling himself with it. But what she loved most of all was his honest face and how after just a few moments of speaking to him, Victoria confessed her childhood dreams of her wedding day. She'd dismissed it as silly and nervously he'd agreed before rushing to fix his mistake, assuring her that her games "weren't silly at all." And for a fleeting moment, the two locked eyes bring Victoria back to a familiar dream.

Everything about Victoria's wedding was wrong, her dress was simple, hair tucked in a knot on her head, every eye in the audience looking dully away.

The thing that wasn't wrong, however, was the face of her groom, long, gentle-eyed and raven-haired.

It was standing up at the alter with this young man that Victoria realized something, all her life she'd been dreaming of the perfect wedding but the gift she got instead was far great than any ceremony could hope to be.

Victoria received the gift of true love.


End file.
